Masks PART TWO: Flight from Reason
by Fictatious
Summary: Misery sets and the slow decent from depression to madness begins. Broken hearts lead to broken minds and despair robs a man of his senses, leaving him reckless and self destructive. dilfol
1. In which Dilandau screams

Dilandau was screaming hysterically and fighting the restraining belts that held him to the operation table. He was calling the names of his dead soldiers and clawing at the table where his hands were held down. He didn't register anything around him. He just kept screaming.

'He's going to injure himself,' Paruchi commented. 'I'll sedate him for the trip back to the capitol.'

'Wise,' Kuaru nodded, a look of morbid fascination molding his features.

Dilandau screamed louder when the needle pierced his skin but then quickly began to quiet and still once more, his eyelids drifting shut and his body going slack.

Formua picked up Dilandau's coat from the counter it had been cast to while he was being strapped down and fished in the pockets. 'Pack-rat,' he grinned, pulling out a handful of random trash. 'Pen, paper, a glass bead, a feather, a napkin -no- half a biscuit, a comb, a handkerchief and two paperclips. He just picks up random crap, doesn't he?' Formua chuckled. 'But, then, you can never have enough paper clips,' he picked up the clips.

'It's all just rubbish,' Paruchi scoffed, sweeping the pile into his hand and taking it to the garbage. He held onto the feather, pushing it up his sleeve as he turned around. 'He'll be under for twelve hours. Post a guard. I'm going to get some rest.'

'I think I will as well,' Garufo yawned lightly and left the room behind him. Paruchi waited until he was alone in his temporary lodgings abroad the transport to pull the feather out of his sleeve and give it a closer look.

Dilandau never went outside. Not when he wasn't on mission. He wouldn't pick up something so frivolous while he was on duty. Where would he get a feather? Why would he carry it around with him? Though he did seem to be a pack-rat as Kuaru said, most of the other things in his pockets had seemed to have some use. This did not.

He pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked at it more closely. It was perfect. There wasn't a wisp out of place. Everything else in Dilandau's pockets had been bent and rumpled, as one might expect. This was not.

He bent it between his fingers experimentally and let go. It sprung back into place with no sign of having been damaged. His interest perked and he crumpled it into his fist, crushing it thoroughly, then opened his hand and stared at it in fascination. It still looked as though it had only just been dropped.

In Paruchi's experience, feather's were fairly fragile things, but a small bell was ringing somewhere in the back of his mind. He dropped the feather on his desk and dived to the box of his books pushed into a corner for the trip.

Sifting through the books, he tried desperately to remember where the diagram he was looking for lay. A pile of discarded books steadily grew next to him as he flipped wildly through pages, focussed and excited as he searched.

His eyes caught just a glimpse of carefully drawn feathers as he flipped through a book bound in black leather. He scrambled to his feet and hurried back to the desk, finding the page and laying the real feather on the opposite.

One feather drawn on the page was an eagle's feather, the other a Draconian's. Notes along side told him defining features of Draconian feathers that did not appear in birds'. Paruchi went down the list, mentally checking off each characteristic.

A giddy, astonished excitement grew in Paruchi as he scanned the pictures and words on the page. It all fit perfectly. It had to be a Draconian feather. Where on Gaea had Dilandau acquired a Draconian feather?

Paruchi gazed down at the feather sitting on his open book for a long time, his mind irritatingly blank, and then, very slowly a grin pulled at his lips and he chuckled softly, closing his eyes. 'You always were very strange, Folken.'


	2. In which Refina pisses you off

'Eria! Naria!' Candice squealed and flew down from her bunk to wrap her arms enthusiastically around them both. Eria cringed irritably; she'd been known to call Candice a loathsome brat a time or two. Naria chuckled, looking down at the golden head that barely came to her shoulder. 'Oh, we've missed you so!'

'Hey,' Mizuru raised a hand lazily in greeting from across the room.

'We've only been gone a few months,' Eria shrugged, pulling away from the chipper, little doll of a human and going to put the duffel under her arm onto her old bunk.

'How have you been, Candice? Grown at all?' Naria patted her head condescendingly.

'A little in the bust,' Candice grinned, biting her finger in the shy, flirtatious manner she often had.

Naria laughed, covering up annoyance that Candice was coming on to her again. 'Progress is progress, I guess. You do look a little less like a baby-doll, anyway.' Naria tossed her bag up to the bunk above Eria's and asked, 'What have we missed?'

'You missed dearest Lord Folken doting over pretty, little Dilandau,' Refina announced maliciously from her leisurely recline on Candice's bunk.

So the rumors were true then? Naria bit her lip and watched Eria's tail fluff and whip back and forth angrily as she turned a furious glare on Refina. 'We don't care about your stupid gossip, Refina!'

Refina grinned rolling onto her belly, chin propped on her hands and eyes glinting slightly. 'Gossip or not, it's true, you know. Just don't want you girls to have any dilutions that it was all fabrication. Maybe you'll get lucky though, with Folken all broken up and lonely over his pretty, little boy being shipped off to the psycho ward.'

'That's crude, Refina,' Naria cut off her sister, not wanting a fight to start. 'It's terribly unfortunate that all Dilandau's men died and you shouldn't make fun of it or what it's done to him.' Cold bitch that she was, no doubt she'd have been excitedly taking note on just how gruesome the deaths were. And now had to bring it up over and over again, her new favorite topic. Just as ever, she wallowed in the scandal and misfortune of others.

Refina snorted, 'I don't know how they managed to choke that badly, but if they couldn't take down one _single_ guymelef, no matter who made it, obviously they weren't all they were cracked up to be.'

Candice looked a little glum, 'Aren't you at all sad though, love? What about pretty Dalet, I thought you rather liked him...'

'That crazy fuck?' Refina chuckled. 'Good for a ride but nothing I'd miss much.'

'You're disgusting,' Eria growled, glaring at the wall behind her bunk as she undressed.

'Oh but _so_ hot for you, baby,' Refina cooed in mock longing and earned a furious hiss as Eria indignantly pulled her nightshirt on.

'If you ever _think_ to touch me, I'll rip your face off!'

'Oh shut up, the both of you,' Mizuru sighed and rolled over in her bunk, pulling the blanket over her head. 'Some of us do like to sleep at night.'

Naria let a relieved breath flow past her lips as Eria hmphed and sunk into her bed. Mizuru had an authoritative way about her that didn't seem quite logical. Her sleepy commands ended several fights before they started and she'd never had to reinforce them with anything. Naria had admired her once for this cool, indifference that seemed to command respect, but after a while decided that she merely sucked the energy out of the room too much to argue.

Candice climbed back into her bunk, letting Refina enfold her controllingly. After changing, Naria padded across the floor and turned off the lights, standing still for a moment and breathing a slow, shaking sigh before going to her own bed.


	3. In which the cats watch TV

'Damn, it's fast,' Eria said doubtfully, watching the monitors that played the recording of the last battle the Dragon Slayers had engaged in with their quarry.

'So are our Teirings,' Naria shook her head. 'Alseides weren't made for speed. They were stealth and distance only. Teirings can match him. We've got the advantage of two on one; we can outmaneuver him. They couldn't.'

Eria sighed, looking back at her, 'It's still going to be hard. We've never fought anyone who could move like that.'

'Of course we have,' Naria grinned, 'We've fought each other.'

Eria laughed, 'Right. And we have numbers.'

'We have numbers,' Naria agreed.

There was a long pause as they watched the recording continue to play and then Eria sighed, 'What do we do with him? We're supposed to kill him, aren't we? But he's Lord Folken's brother...'

'He wouldn't say if we asked him,' Naria looked down at her feet. 'He wouldn't say if he didn't want us to kill him... not if it was against the Emperor's wishes...'

'I don't want to do anything that would make him sad... We should capture him alive...' Eria hugged her knees and gazed straightforward.

'But what if he does wish his brother dead? He hasn't known him for ten years... they're not even really brothers any more... And what he did to Dilandau, maybe--'

'_Shut up!_' Eria jumped to her feet and glared down at her twin. 'Don't tell me you believe that shit!'

Naria looked down again. 'Of course not, sister...' she whispered.

'You know Lord Folken would never lower himself to that obnoxious punk's level! How can you even think for a minute that there would be any truth to the crap Refina spews?' Eria was barely holding in hysteria. Denial. Don't see, don't hear, don't ask, don't believe.

'A moments insanity,' Naria said quietly and then stood, walking to the door.

'Where are you going?'

'The recording ended a while ago, sister,' Naria replied over her shoulder. 'It's nearly meal time.'

'Right,' Eria looked down at the floor a moment, fisting her hands and then let out a calming breath and followed her sister.


	4. In which Folken may have slept

_Dilandau was blue-tinged in the lamplight. He looked like he was made of snow. Like the blue, almost translucent seeming mountains overlooking Fanelia, sparkling in the crisp sunlight of the first clear day of spring._

_Folken closed his eyes, leaning back against the cool wall, and could almost smell the earth being broken apart and turned by the plows. It had been ten years since he'd watched the fields being prepared for planting under the yet-cold sun of a Fanelian springtime. It was such a little kingdom; the capitol city consisted of only a few city blocks before the farmlands began. Over the thatch-roofed houses with gently smoking wood chimneys could always be heard, from dawn to dusk, the rhythmic song of the men and women at work in the fields._

_It was a while before he realized he was humming his old favorite song of the planting season. He usually whistled, unable to hit any of the higher notes now with his voice but some bit of his brain was still conscious of Dilandau's sleeping form beside him from the wrap of memories he'd fallen into. He let the song roll quietly through his throat and chest, savoring the simple melody of his childhood with a sweet yet mournful heaviness in his soul._

_He opened his eyes after he'd finished and glanced back to Dilandau. To his dismay, he found the raspberry eyes widely opened and staring back at him. Dilandau usually slept so soundly._

_'I woke you?'_

_Dilandau shook his head slowly. 'What's that?' he whispered._

_'Just an old folksong,' Folken stroked Dilandau's cheek lightly. 'Asking for a good harvest.'_

_'Sing it again,' Dilandau rolled over and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking up at Folken imploringly._

_Folken smiled and ran his fingers down Dilandau's jaw. 'With the words?' he asked and Dilandau nodded eagerly._

_He sang it two octaves lower than he'd learned it, musing as he did that it really had been a long time. After a moment Dilandau lay a hand lightly on Folken's chest, letting the vibrations flow through his fingers. His eyes stayed wide and rapt, staring at Folken with a kind of wonder. Folken wondered with a stab of pain if he'd ever really heard music. If he'd ever heard a flute or a harp. The likelihood was that he hadn't. His experience with song could so easily be limited to skipping-rope rhymes and propaganda jingles._

_How could such a beautiful and radiant thing have grown out of such a gray world?_

Folken's eyes snapped open, staring into blackness. Had he been asleep? It was so hard to tell sometimes. The memories came and went in sleep and wakefulness, though there seemed little difference between the two states now. His insomnia was worse than ever. He felt dead. He wished he were dead. He should be dead. He deserved to be dead. That dragon should have killed him.


	5. In which Paruchi smirks

No reaction. Dilandau's eyes didn't blink as Paruchi snapped his fingers in front of them. He could slap him across the face and it would be the same. Nothing. It had been the same for two weeks now. The boy still refused to wake.

One intravenous tube kept his body alive and another brought in chemicals that attempted to pull him from the catatonic stupor. Nothing seemed to have had any effect so far and for too many of them they had to wait for the previous to be clear of his system before they could try a new cocktail. Troublesome even in unconsciousness.

'I thought you were stronger than this, pet,' Paruchi said quietly to the now rather frail and small looking body on the table. 'Did I put too much faith in you? I expect better from a pupil of mine.'

'Lord Paruchi?' an apprentice sorcerer stepped quietly into the room.

'What?' Paruchi didn't bother to look at him as he studied the ghostly, blank face.

'Lord Folken wishes to speak with you. He's on teleline two.'

Paruchi smirked, 'Of course he does.' He marked Dilandau's observation chart and blew out of the room and down the hall to his office. He sat in his chair with a disrespectful slouch and flipped on the monitor on his desk. 'Folken,' he half-acknowledged.

'Paruchi,' Folken nodded. 'The Luck Enhancement experiments are near completion?'

'Indeed. It should be ready for implementation in two weeks time,' Paruchi nodded and refrained from rolling his eyes. _And while I'm calling anyway..._

'What is Dilandau's status?'

'You are getting far too predictable, Folken,' Paruchi snickered. Folken very nearly scowled at him. 'No change at all, though I can't see why he should bother to wake up. Not as if anyone he cares about is still in this world.' That statement got a glorious glare.

'Tell me, Folken, was it your mother or your father that was a Draconian?' Paruchi smirked at the image on the screen.

'My mother, and I must say you're rather unobservant if it's taken you this long to figure out, what with access to my medical records,' Folken responded dryly, looking completely unfazed, much to Paruchi's chagrin.

'So very smug, Folken,' Paruchi spat. 'What would the emperor think to have such a cursed bird in his flock?'

'Do you honestly think Emperor Dornkirk doesn't know?' the grainy picture raised an eyebrow.

'Of course, it would be the Atlantian heritage that makes you favored in his eye.'

'Perhaps it is,' Folken agreed in monotone. 'Are you trying to taunt me, Paruchi?'

Paruchi glared silently at the screen for a minute before replying. 'Of course not, Folken. If I wanted to taunt you I'd more likely mention your pedophilic tendencies or your habit of use-and-discard in regards to human beings or--'

The connection cut and the screen went blank. Paruchi smiled deeply and put his feet on the desk.


	6. In which Folken cries Again

Folken's heart jumped into his throat for just a moment when a set of knuckles hit the door. Then it sank down below his feet and left a painful hole in his chest as reality came back and he shook himself before crossing the room to answer it. Silver hair and the hole widened, but it was too dark, too metallic.

'Naria,' Folken made a slight effort to smile for her and a look of concern crossed the junin's face. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?' That sounded amazingly fake. Almost like you'd have to put some serious time and thought into making something that sounded as artificial and soulless as that.

'What's the matter, Lord Folken?' she asked quietly, looking slightly pained at the blatant artificiality.

He shook his head slightly and couldn't look her in the eye. 'I'm a bit tired,' he dodged the real question. He _was_ tired. He hadn't slept properly in a month.

'Lord Folken...' Naria stepped forwards, allowing the door to close itself, and caught Folken's hand in both of hers. His eyes were lifted by an invisible force and met hers again. 'Please don't lie to me, Lord Folken,' she whispered.

'I'm sorry, Naria,' Folken closed his eyes. When he opened them, Naria lead him to a chair and sat down across from him. He felt a slight touch of relief that she'd sat in his usual seat and not Dilandau's. In the same perspective, looking across the same table at the wrong person, he would have broken down into tears.

'Please talk to me, Lord Folken,' she murmured plaintively. 'I want to understand. I want to help you.'

Irrational anger flared hotly in Folken's throat and he nearly shouted at her, 'You can't understand!' She looked so hurt but he couldn't apologize as he sank into Dilandau's chair. 'You can't help me. Not unless you can change the past. Not even the Atlantis machine can do that...'

'... What would you change if you could?' her voice had a catch in it, of someone trying very hard to stay calm.

'Everything...' Folken slumped against his arms on the table. 'Everything... it's just one mistake after another... One _selfish_ mistake after another...'

'I don't think you're a selfish person, Lord Folken,' Naria's voice was quiet and wavering slightly. 'You saved Eria and me. Just a couple of dirty urchins. A selfish person wouldn't have done that.'

'... I saved you,' Folken heaved a shuddering sigh, 'because I was reminded of Meryl... the kitten that travels with Van... She was like family... family I abandoned... It was just another foolish attempt to take back one of my stupid mistakes...'

There was a period of silence that seemed to stretch on for hours. 'You've shown kindness to so many people,' Naria's voice was shaking. 'I've seen you show kindness to so many people. So much more than anyone else. You're a good person, Lord Folken. You're such a kind person.'

'... Just once... I was mean... Just the wrong once... Just the once that would damn me forever...' something broke and Folken sobbed into his arms. Then it was uncontrollable, he was crying beyond all reason and boundary. He was crying more inconsolably than a sick infant. In front of Naria he was breaking down. Damn it all. Now he'd loose her too.


	7. In which Naria cries

Naria's legs gave out from under her and she half-collapsed, clinging to the balcony railing for support. The velvet on her face was soaked with tears and her stomach jumped painfully with each sob that raked her body. She was close to vomiting. She'd never felt this terrible in her life.

She'd never seen her lord break down like that. Never even close. He'd always been so strong and untouchable. But now he was touchable, just not to her. That was the worst pain. Knowing that she could never do that to him. She could never make him cry.

She cupped her hands over her mouth and screamed. The muted sound seemed lost in the wind and she screamed as hard as she could, again and again and again, barely making a sound.

But apparently it had been some sound. A hand touched her shoulder softly. In that instant she prayed to every god that would hear her for it not to be her lord. But it was silly for her to even consider that. It was a little hand. Too small still to be Eria's.

'Naria?' a very scared, little voice squeaked behind her. She forced her swollen eyes open and turned her head to see Candice leaned over her. 'Are you alright?'

Naria shook her head. She wasn't sure herself if it was a 'no, I'm not' or a 'nothing's wrong, go away'.

'What's wrong?' Candice asked tentatively, looking close to tears herself.

She shook her head again. The petit bit her lip and gazed at her another minute before whispering, 'Can I sit with you?' Another sob pulled itself from Naria's mouth and she nodded.

Candice settled next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Naria wasn't sure entirely when she'd become curled up across the girl's lap, sobbing into her chest as Candice gently stroked her hair and rocked her.


	8. In which we send cats into space

'What are they doing?' Eria wondered aloud as they swiftly approached the Crusade, hanging motionless in the air over a vast valley of glaciers.

'They're just stopped,' Naria's voice came through the speaker near her head in a quiet, confused voice. 'They're not even trying to run.'

'Hrn, their problem, not ours,' Eria shrugged slightly into the yoke of her harness. 'If they think they can counter with their poor little ship, they've got another thing coming.'

'But they're just waiting for us, sister, they must be planning something. We should reduces speed and approach with more caution,' Naria said in a reasonable tone.

'Right,' Eria agreed with a slight, pointless and invisible nod. 'I'll circle to the Starboard,' she adjusted her course westward slightly. Just as she had made the subtle change, a blazing hole seemed to tear itself in the sky above the airship.

The sky, the very air, warped and stretched upwards into a pulling, upside-down funnel shape, sucking the Crusade quickly up into the space beyond. Which didn't seem to exist.

There was nothing at the narrow end of the funnel. The airship simply flew up into it and disappeared. Eria swore quietly, in a way that was far more impressed and baffled than angry.

'What is that?' Naria's voice whispered in astonishment over the radio.

'Naria, Eria, keep your distance from it,' Folken's voice came sharply over the radio and Eria realized that though her engine was in idle, she was drifting slowly towards the funnel from it's suction.

'What is it, Lord Folken?' Naria asked more clearly.

'The gate of Atlantis, I think,' Folken answered shortly.

'... Atlantis...' Eria whispered, staring at it with a cold, prickly fascination.

_'Are you a bird?' Eria, who had just been Bellubellu, asked quietly. She reached up a small hand and touched it cautiously to one of the large, white wings curling out of the man's back._

_He smiled in a way that made Eria feel very warm and calm. 'Maybe I am. I'm not sure. If only birds have wings than I must be.'_

_'Batth have wingth,' Naria, formerly Narunaru, shook her head, wrinkling her nose. 'An Bugth have wingth.'_

_'But this is bird wings,' Eria said firmly. 'Bats and bugs's wings you can see through. This is feather wings so this is birds wings.'_

_'Birdth do not have armth,' Naria shook her head. 'Birdth have feet and wingth and no armth.'_

_The man chuckled, grinning down at them in the warm, comfortable way. It made a pain in Eria's stomach as she remembered her mother and father wearing that kind of smile. She looked down at the ground for a moment, tears coming back to her eyes as memories of her parents rose again. She thought of her mother's stories and a thought occurred to her._

_'Please, sir,' she tugged at the man's cloak, 'are you a faery person? Like in the stories?'_

_His smile went a little narrower and a sadness came to his eyes. 'Yes,' he nodded softly. 'Like in the stories. My mother came from Atlantis and married a human man. Like in bedtime stories.'_

_Naria chewed on her finger for a moment before pulling it away from her mouth and asking, 'Ith Atlantith magical faery land?'_

_'I don't know,' the man shook his head and stroked his hand over her ears. 'I've never seen it.'_

Eria gazed at the tunnel through the sky. The beginning of it, the gate, was circled in a huge, golden ring. She wondered if all of the city beyond it was made of gold. She thought that would be very bright and uncomfortable, but also very magical. But she couldn't imagine her lord belonging in a place like that. And that was what Atlantis was, wasn't it? Lord Folken's proper home.

And at any moment, this gate in the sky might close. Forever. And they might never be able to open it again. They might never find it again. It would be lost to Lord Folken forever. And he would never be happy.

'Sister, I think we've been waiting here long enough,' Eria said over her radio, sending the sound directly to Naria's guymelef without sounding back on the Vione.

'You want to go in after them?' Naria asked, her voice holding no doubt but rather excitement and longing.

'Magical faery world, sister,' Eria whispered. 'Let's go. Let's find Lord Folken's home so he can be happy.'


	9. In which things dissapear

The cat bitches were back. Briefly Van found himself pondering how much sense the phrase 'cat bitches', with which his mind had described them, made. He shook himself and swallowed against the bile trying to rise in his throat. Someone was asking if Schezerade was repaired enough to fight. No one even bothered to consider him. He was useless. Meryl had more fighting will than him. Let her pilot the death machine.

He recoiled from that thought. She was more a child than him. Every bit as terrified of this war as he was. She was just braver. He struggled to pull at his courage, to run to the hanger and climb into Escaflowne. To fight the cat women and defend the people that were now his closest thing to family.

To fight his only real family.

He wanted to say 'I can do it. I can fight,' but the words died in his throat and his lungs seemed to retreat. He wanted to run away too. He wanted to run away from everything and hide from the whole world. It wasn't fair that fate asked so much of him. He wanted to hide from it.

He wanted to be anywhere but here.

Somebody gasped and the cabin flooded with light. He pressed his eyes shut and crouched to the floor. What now? There is no situation that can not become worse. There is a definite end to how good things can be but no limit to how bad they can be. There's no bottom to eventually hit. Hell probably has infinite sublevels, just so that when you think you're suffering as much as is possible, management can reassign you to a lower floor.

'Oh!' the princess exclaimed in her birdish twitter. 'Where are we?'

Van opened his eyes and looked up slowly to the windows. Meryl was still firmly attached to his arm, her claws digging into his skin slightly in her anxiety. After the first glimpse of it caught his eye, he abruptly jumped properly to his feet, Meryl getting slightly jarred and leaving a scratch down his inner arm, and stared.

He knew the place, he recognized it almost as easily as he would've recognized Fanelia, but he had no idea where it was.

'Atlantis,' Hitomi whispered.

Then she disappeared. Van gasped and his mouth started to form her name, but it was Allen's voice that spoke it first. Then he disappeared. New shock. Just as the shape of the last sound in Hitomi's name was fading from his lips, they seemed to reprocess this new information faster than his brain did and called in surprise 'Allen!'

And then everything disappeared.

Van stared. He was standing amid rubble. He gazed down at his feet for a long time, unable to lift his head from the cobbled street below them littered with crumbled adobe. 'Where am I?' he whispered, hoping Hitomi's voice would again explain everything.

He lifted his head slowly, ruined buildings swimming in his vision. There were blocks and streets, marked out by the half-crushed remains of structures and foundations. He was at a different angle now, higher up, on the ridge above the city, in the ruins of the palace.

'Fanelia,' he whispered the answer to his own question, since Hitomi hadn't. Since for once he seemed to be the one dreaming and unable to see her.

'Lord Van,' a deep, familiar voice boomed behind him.


	10. In which the ground moves

Eria spotted the pink hair of the kitten, among the gray and green, in a small court near a fountain. 'There they are,' she grinned, descending on the group. She and Naria landed hard, making the paved ground crack and splinter below them.

'There's the cat, but where's the king?' Naria's voice crackled in reply over the radio. All the noise of the Vione was gone. She could only hear her sister.

'Little king, little king, come out and play,' Eria sang softly over her intercom, sending the sound to her exterior speakers.

Light poured from behind her and she gasped. She turned her head on reflex, seeing only the side of her cockpit, before her body followed her head's lead and brought the guymelef around to face the glow. It was searing, with a soft pinkness that reminded her of her own eyes in the mirror. A shadow grew out of it, fluidly wavering.

Naria swore softly in disbelief as the shadow solidified into a guymelef, thin and graceful, its cape billowing in the energy of whatever was causing it to appear. She gazed at it with unfathoming shock for a long time before she remembered that this was what and whom she had come to face. A shiver ran down her spine and a knot pulled in her stomach. Suddenly she was afraid of this child who had previously proved no opponent.

She shook her head and swallowed, forcing her voice to sound cocky and secure. 'We won't let you go this time!' she announced to the boy that must still be piloting the machine.

'No hiding behind the kitten this time!' Naria announced beside her, sounding unperturbed by the entrance.

The guymelef was still for a moment, then it raised its arm and with a hissing sound the blade of the sword smoothly extended. The knot in Eria's stomach tightened. This was not the little boy they'd fought before.

'He's different,' Naria's voice came shakily over the intercom, though not outside. 'He wasn't like this before. Can you feel it?'

Eria nodded slowly, then shook her head in irritation with herself and said, 'Yes.' Waves of energy were flowing off the Escaflowne. They were so strong they were tangible. Almost as thick as water. 'What happened to him?' Eria whispered.

The sound of the boy's voice, magnified by ancient technology, different and forgotten to the ones who had designed Zaibach's radios, rolled smoothly out of the white guymelef, no shudder or hesitation in them. 'Escaflowne's pain is my pain,' they said. It was like an inner monologue, that they were able to hear because there was no 'off' button to those ancient speakers. They were something older than electricity or record. Something that just was.

A new thrill of terror sliced through Eria. The pilot of The Escaflowne didn't need secrets, didn't need hidden group strategy. Because it had something more effective than speech. She could feel the force of the words the boy was saying, both in her ears and boring into her brain. It was crushing.

'The pain of war,' the boy's voice was older. It was still of an immature tone, still from a gangly, half-grown youth, but it was being used differently. It boomed and resonated off the hills and in the valleys.

'If this war won't pass by, then I'll shoulder the burden. I'll shoulder the weight of war,' it said and Eria felt a horrible urge to scream rising in her. 'Along with the sorrow of the dead!'

It took a step forward, and where dropping from the sky had caused cracks perhaps twice the size of the Tearings' feet to sprout in the pavement, the Escaflowne's slow, calm step caused the entire city to shake and crack.

Eria bit her tongue hard to stop herself from screaming as the rocks rose in the air and the Escaflowne began to glow with force again. 'Sister, what's it doing?' Naria's voice came fearfully over the speaker.


	11. In which Naria screams

Naria screamed.

She could see nothing but the searing white light that seemed to come from the very earth of Atlantis exploding and shooting into the air. It flooded her cockpit and washed out any trace of the world, or even the machine, around her.

She felt herself being thrown back, sailing through the air, at horrible speeds.

'_Naria! Eria!_' the radio crackled.

'Lord Folken!' she cried in tandem with her sister, relief flowing through her, though she still couldn't see.

She felt weightless and detached. She couldn't feel the guymelef's interior around her. She felt the panic squashed by Lord Folken's voice rising anew. Though she couldn't feel anything, she still had the sensation of moving very, very fast. She whimpered inadvertently as she plummeted through nothing.

And then the guymelef was around her again. She could feel the controls under her hands and feet, the weight of the fluid around her and the sweat on her face. The light abated and she tried to blink away her blindness.

'_Naria, Eria, are you all right?_' Lord Folken's voice crackled with a concerned tone.

'_Yes, Lord Folken_,' Eria crackled back and Naria coughed before answering the same.

'Where...?' she gasped in surprise, finally managing to take in the landscape around her.

'_Zaibach..._' Lord Folken sounded equally startled.

'But... we were four days journey from here...' Naria mumbled lamely.

'_Space is nothing to the power of Atlantis_,' Lord Folken's voice came again, sounding now emotionless again.

'_The power of_...' Eria trailed off.


	12. In which Van is put in a cage

All through Zaibach, every scientist and sorcerer was bursting with excitement. The power of Atlantis was at last harnessed. The fate alteration engine had successfully brought to them the very elements they sought. The Dragon and the girl from the Mystic Moon. The renegade Caeli Knight had also come with the package, but was paid little attention.

The girl from the Mystic Moon wailed to her companions when soldiers caught her arms. Both started at their names, both struggled harder against their own captors, calling back her name. A note should be made on that.

'You _bastards!_' the young king screeched. 'Let us _go!_ Zaibach _bastards!_ _Murderers! Witches!_' He was much stronger than he looked and four soldiers were having difficulty moving him down the hall.

'Shut up!' one of the soldiers shouted and cracked his fist over the boy's head. He'd already been dealt a few blows but refused to quiet.

Kuaru paused and sighed. He turned back to the prisoners and their escort, gazing at the struggling boy for a moment before stepping instead towards the much more subdued girl. He slapped her across the face and caused her to yelp.

'Hitomi!' the blonde knight shouted abruptly and glared at Kuaru. The boy king started and went suddenly quiet, though glared even more intensely. He had the same color eyes as Folken, Kuaru noted, though it was one of the very few similarities.

'Quiet down,' Kuaru said in a low voice, glaring back at the boy.

'Bastard,' the boy grunted and looked at the ground, no longer fighting the escorts grip on him.

Kuaru nodded and turned again, pressing a button to call the lift. It was already there and the doors opened instantly. He felt somewhat pressed in the lift. It was very large, as it was meant for this purpose, but still with three prisoners, ten guards and a sorcerer, it was rather cramped.

The girl was looking at him with eyes that were not quite terrified but did hold fear and also curiosity. She was from the Mystic Moon like Lord Dornkirk, and though much younger still held much mystery and possible knowledge.

The two male prisoners glared silently at him, having picked him out as the leader, and therefor focal point of hatred, of this escort. He smirked at the king and watched him fume and look away.

The lift reached its destination and he stepped out first, eager to get out of such cramped quarters, followed by the soldiers and captives. 'Put them each in their own bird cages,' Kuaru ordered, powering the machine to bring three suspended prisons to the top of the tower they stood in.

The first reached the top and swiveled around on it's track, coming to the dock where it was opened and the boy-king shoved inside. There were no locks to speak of. If one tried to escape, they would most likely fall to their death. Or they would manage to maneuver themselves, climb the chain from which their cage was suspended, get perhaps half-way to the top before they became completely exhausted and fell to their death. If someone actually managed to escape, which had never happened, he would have said 'Well done.' And then they would have promptly been caught and put back in the cages, because Lord Dornkirk would have seen them climbing out the entire time. It was deliciously bitter irony.


	13. In which love is invalid

It was easy enough to shift fancy or lust from one object to another. Folken shook his head. Love was a matter in its own, but casual affection or attraction could be swayed easily. So success relied on the weakness of emotions? No. Love was something entirely different than attraction. It was a different emotion, not just a different level. Wasn't it?

Love was something higher.

Or could love be shifted so easily? Was it nothing more than the need to cling to someone else; a base, biological impulse to find another warm body and be near it? No. Dilandau had been different. The whole set of emotions had been different ones than those previously associated with affection.

Love was different.

Yet scientifically speaking, love was only a survival mechanism. Nothing more. And science can't lie. There was not only one perfect match to everyone on the planet. The idea in and of itself was ludicrous. Not only was there no facts, no data, no real documentation, it was against statistics. There was no way.

Love was an arbitrary focus of lust.

And that was all. That had to be all. Through drugs or hypnosis all emotions could be changed. So emotions were not scientifically valid. The only real pain was physical. A broken leg or a stab wound could be documented. It could be analyzed. It could be proved. That was real.

Love was invalid.

Folken shook his head, gazing at a long list of calculations. It was just another gravity that effected humans. It was just another force that directed their lives. Like fate. Like destiny.

Love was destiny.

And it could be controlled with the same principles. It could be rerouted. It could be channeled and changed. It could be harnessed, if only he had the right formula, it could be mastered. It was nothing.

Love was nothing.


	14. In which Naira's hair get braided

'Your hair is so pretty, Naria,' Candice sighed, softly brushing out her companion's long hair. 'Like spun silver.'

'Silver is more white, I think,' Naria mused. 'My hair's more like steel.'

'That's not as romantic,' Candice pouted.

'It's more practical and stronger,' Naria smiled. 'Strong like me.'

'Ah, I guess it is steel then,' Candice giggled, combing her fingers through the hair in question and picking out a lock in each hand.

'Hey Naria, hey Candice,' Mizuru greeted in a bored way as she came in the door. The other two girls responded in the same manner as she jumped up to her bunk and pulled a book out from between the mattress and the wall. 'Where's Eria?'

'D'know,' Naria closed her eyes. 'Ran off somewhere.'

'I saw her at dinner,' Candice noted, pulling back more of Naria's hair into the complex plait she was working. 'She was acting weird. What happened today? I heard she was involved in one of the fatey tests.'

'Something about gravity and rearranging stuff,' Naria sighed. 'She got to kiss Lord Folken as part of it.'

'Oooh! That would do it!' Candice giggled.

'So she's off being smug with herself? Cute,' Mizuru snorted.

'I don't know...' Naria shook her head. 'She seemed kind of... upset...'

'That's weird,' Candice paused to think. 'Not as good as she thought?'

'I don't know,' Naria shrugged.

'Mn, hair band,' Candice ordered and Naria handed a piece of ribbon back to her. 'Thank you!' she tied up the end of the weave. 'Oh it's so pretty!'

Naria laughed, 'I wish I had a mirror, it feels neat.'

'So does that mean it's going to be easier to capture the dragon kid now?' Candice stepped back a subject, falling back and laying on Naria's bed.

'No, the girl from the Mystic Moon,' Naria shook her head and stretched out next to Candice on her stomach. 'They don't need the Escaflowne for the machine any more, but Lord Dornkirk thinks the girl might be able to make it run. So now our target is that girl.'

'Huh,' Candice gazed at the ceiling for a while. 'How can a person be part of a machine?'

'A machine can be part of a person,' Naria said softly.

'You mean like Lord Folken's arm?'

'Yeah. He said once that people _are_ machines. The most incredible machines ever made,' Naria mused. 'And the Atlantis Machine is supposed to be the most amazing machine people have ever made. So maybe people and the Atlantis Machine are about the same kind of amazing, so they can fit together...'

Candice shook her head, 'I don't get it.'

'Neither does she,' Mizuru snorted. 'She's pulling that out of her ass.'

'I'm not a scientist,' Naria shrugged. 'I don't know the right words to say it.'


	15. In which Eria gets a transfusion

Eria smiled. The machine next to her hummed softly and made a pulsing wheeze as it pumped the blood out of her body through a tube in her arm. It was replaced immediately with new blood. Better blood.

With this blood she would be lucky beyond all belief. She would be able to accomplish anything. She would be able to win her lord this war. She would be able to accomplish her lord's dreams. She would be able to give him everything and then he would love her.

The power of her luck now would be unlimited.


	16. In which Eria has trouble breathing

Eria gasped. She couldn't breath. Her lungs refused to cooperate and the air was too hot. She opened her eyes and whimpered.

A hand caught hers and her eyes moved up, focusing on her lord. 'L-lo-'

'Shhhhh,' Folken hushed her, squeezing her hand. 'Just rest.'

'I can't-- I cant—bre...'

'Kirin!' Lord Folken called and Eria could hear footsteps somewhere in the room come closer. 'Get some oxygen,' Lord Folken ordered.

'Yes sir,' a voice answered and the footsteps went away.

Eria's lungs hurt and her vision went in and out of focus, but she could see Lord Folken looking down at her with a worried, caring look in his eyes. She smiled, her breath still coming in painful gasps through her slightly parted lips. The concern in his eyes made the pain ease. This pain was worth it for that reassuring care. Yes, he did love her.

A sudden pain ripped through her chest and she started coughing and gagging, her body jerking and convulsing. She couldn't stop herself. Bile rose in her throat and made her cough harder.

When it subsided enough for her to think, she could feel Lord Folken's hands on her shoulders. She gasped a few times and sank back onto the palate she'd been lying on.

Lord Folken looked still more scared and Eria smiled, tasting blood.


	17. In which Folken gets pissed

Eria sighed, the breath leaving her lungs for the last time. She and Naria became still, their chests ceased to expand and when Folken put his hand against their necks, he could feel no pulse. He stared down at them and felt ill.

'_So this is the result of bad luck upon the Luck Intensified Soldiers_,' Dornkirk's voice echoed over the transmitter.

Shut up.

'_We have learned much from this experiment_.'

Shut up.

'My _scientists are already making new calculations based upon these results_.'

Shut up.

'_The information comes as most valuable_.'

Shut up.

'This _sacrifice was well worth the knowledge we have gained from it_.'

'You're _wrong!_' Folken snapped, glaring at the monitor.

'What?' Dornkirk's voice sounded disbelieving. Then the monitor was filled with nothing but static.


	18. In which Dilandau yells

Dilandau staggered down the hall tipsily. One hand now traced the wall next to him but he still swayed as he walked. Jajuka kept the distance between him and the boy narrow, ready to catch him if he collapsed. He really shouldn't have been walking around, but it was important that he not be upset either and he'd seemed on the edge of tantruming when Jajuka tried to stop him from roaming the new ship.

He mumbled in a half-conscious, fever-like way as he moved, shaking his head now and then to try and rid himself of the stupor the anesthetics, combine with alcohol, had put him into. He stopped, leaning heavily against the wall, with his brow knit in bleary confusion. Looking back at Jajuka with slightly glazed eyes he asked in a louder, clearer voice 'Where's Folken?'

Metaphorical shit was about to hit a figurative fan. Jajuka's felt a headache coming on. 'He left,' he answered quietly, hearing the edge of nervousness in his own voice.

'What are you talking about?' Dilandau shook his head again in the way that seemed to be an attempt to clear it. 'Where's Folken? I want to speak to Folken.'

'He deserted. He's taken asylum in Asturia,' Jajuka put long years of discipline into making his voice calm and even.

Dilandau shook his head, looking bewildered and irritated, 'Asturia...'

'--Has turned against us and is our enemy now.'

'But...' Dilandau put a hand to his head, face scrunching up further in confusion. 'Why is Folken there?'

'He deserted. Lord Folken betrayed Zaibach,' waiting for someone who's drugged and half-asleep to get angry can be amazingly tedious.

Dilandau stared at him, eyes sharpening slightly and confusion turning to outrage. 'You're lying,' he bit with a hint of mounting fury in his voice.

'I'm afraid not, my lord,' Jajuka shook his head, bracing himself for a blow.

'SHUT UP! YOU'RE LYING!' Dilandau screamed, starting awkwardly towards Jajuka. 'LIAR! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! You don't know... you don't...'

Jajuka caught Dilandau before he hit the floor, gathering the now still and quiet body over his shoulder and carrying him back to the sorcerers' labs. He chastised himself mentally for counting it as relief that the boy had passed out rather than worrying over his state of health.


	19. In which Folken cries some more

'Folken?' Hitomi found her voice very soft and shaky. She was at the top of the stairs to his lab when she spotted him, crumpled over his workbench, face buried in his good hand, sobbing.

He looked up abruptly at the sound and turned, feigning perfect composure despite swollen eyes. 'Is there something I can do for you, Lady Hitomi?' he asked politely.

'Is...' Hitomi paused and looked at her hands a moment before descending the stairs and walking towards him. 'Naria and Eria... you loved them very much, didn't you? Even if it's not the way she wanted... you still did care about her a lot, didn't you?'

Folken looked startled for a moment and then blinked and nodded slowly, looking away and bringing up his hand to wipe away the tears on his face. 'Yes... I... yes,' he said quietly. 'Is there something you wanted?'

Hitomi looked at the ground, feeling her cheeks get warm in embarrassment. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I didn't mean to intrude. I'm not trying to be nosey... It's just... you should be sad. You have the right...'

Folken snorted, looking angry. 'I'm not _sad_. I'm wallowing in my _well_ deserved guilt, as usual,' he snapped.

'Folken...' Hitomi felt a lump rising in her throat and a burning begin at the back of her eyes. 'It's not your fault.'

'Everything is my fault,' Folken almost seemed to growl as he turned away from her, leaning his palms against he work bench. 'Such is the penalty of being hopelessly irresponsible and shortsighted.'

'Everyone makes mistakes,' Hitomi shook her head and stepped next to him, laying her hand on his in a weak attempt to comfort him, 'and you thought you were doing what w--'

_'Can I stay here?'_

_'It's not your fault and you can't do anything about it.'_

_'I want to.'_

'_I can't even pretend I don't want you.'_

'_How can you be exactly who you need to all the time, no matter how much it hurts you?'_

_'Sing it again.'_

_'You're beautiful.'_

_'Beautiful angel... don't waste your time with me.'_

_'Can you fly?'_

_'They're fantastic and beautiful.'_

'_I'm sorry.'_

'_Who is he?'_

'_Why are you mad at me?' _

'_I'm sorry.'_

'_You lied to me.'_

'_I'm sorry.'_

'_Don't you even care that he hurt me?'_

'_You're being stupid.'_

'_I'm sorry.'_

'_I HATE HIM!'_

'_WHY?'_

'_Because you love him more than me.'_

'_When did I ever say I loved you?' _

'_I'm sorry.'_

'_When did I ever say I loved you?' _

_'I didn't mean that.'_

'_When did I ever say I loved you?' _

_'SHUT UP!'_

'_When did I ever say I loved you?' _

'_I'm sorry.'_

_'And what do you want me to do about it?'_

'_When did I ever say I loved you?' _

'_I'm sorry.'_

_'I love you. I've never loved anyone so much.'_

_'That's a shame. I'll never trust anything you say again.'_

'_When did I ever say I loved you?' _

_'I HATE YOU!' _

'_I'm sorry.'_

_'DILANDAU!'_

_'Please, please, get out of there...'_

_'I can't move...'_

'_You have no say in this matter. However much sick pleasure you may have taken in him, he's not yours and you have no control over his fate.'_

Hitomi gasped and staggered backwards, staring at Folken who was shaking and paler than chalk. He slowly turned his head, staring at Hitomi with a vaguely horrified and hollow expression.

'I'm sorry!' Hitomi whispered. 'I didn't mean to... I'm sorry!'


	20. In which Dilandau does some more yelling

Dilandau wasn't really sure if he was awake or dreaming. He was half propped up in a bed on a few pillows. It made him curl oddly. His shifted slightly and his head bumped into the wall. It seemed as though he hit it rather hard, and it made him feel very dizzy, but he couldn't find any pain in it.

He closed his eyes for a long time and opened them again, pushing himself up more on the bed. Sitting in a chair across the room, just staring at him, was a large junin in a Slayers uniform. A wave of deja vu swept over Dilandau and he felt stupid when he asked 'Who are you?' thinking that he must have asked it and heard the answer many times before.

'My name is Jajuka, Lord Dilandau,' the junin replied, standing and bowing politely. 'I am the new soldier under your command.'

Dilandau closed his eyes again and mulled that over, thinking a large chunk of his brain was missing. 'Why?' he asked, shaking his head slightly. Since when did they let junin into the armed forces? Aside from the cats, but they were an unusual exception. 'Where are my Slayers?' he glared fuzzily at this Jajuka.

'They died.'

'... Died...' Dilandau muttered quietly and the chunk of his brain that had been missing seemed to find its way home. He flinched and shuddered, hearing hollow screams in his ears. He felt bile rising in his throat. He needed desperately to be held, pulled back to reality and away from it at the same time.

Like Folken had held him, after all that. Rocking him and holding him and loving him. He needed Folken. He needed him badly. 'Where is Folken?' his voice shook, wanting very much to be rid of the cold junin standing there. 'I need... I need to speak...'

'Folken deserted. About two weeks ago. He left,' the junin answered crisply. Without emotion or care. Soulless beast.

Deja vu again. Dilandau had been told all this before. Just before he woke up this last time, or rather, before he was asleep this last time. He found himself shaking. His breath became impossible to slow. It hurt. It made his chest bounce painfully and his throat ache. It was something like sobbing but faster, more painful.

'Lord Dilandau,' the junin stepped forward slightly.

Dilandau hated him. He hated the cold, soulless creature that wore his soldiers' uniform to mock them and him. He hated every hair on the beast. 'GO AWAY!' he screamed, his voice cracking into a gush of toneless air halfway through the second word. 'LEAVE ME ALONE! GO AWAY! I HATE YOU!' He picked up the clock next to his bed and threw it at the junin.

The vile thing retreated hastily from the room, its face still so expressionless, though its ears laid flat down against its head. After the door shut, Dilandau found himself alone with only the sound of his own ragged breathing. He dropped his face into his gloved hands and sobbed, curling his legs up to his chest.

Everyone was dead. Everyone he loved was dead. No. Folken wasn't dead. Folken was worse than dead. Folken had abandoned him. Folken didn't care about him. Folken had never cared about him. Folken hated him. Folken wanted him to suffer. Folken wanted him to just die here.

The only reason not to just roll over and die was to spite Folken. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to live and hate Folken forever. But maybe he was supposed to. To go on suffering here. That was the real plan. Folken had left him here to suffer.

Dilandau drew his hands slowly away from his face and stared at the wall. Everything was gone. Everything was over. Twenty-three didn't matter any more. Chesta had already broken the pact by dying. There was nothing tying him to this world.


	21. In which Paruchi yells

Jajuka leaned against the wall outside the door, gazing sadly at it. In some ways, this was much easier than trying to bring round a stricken child. The small children tried to run away and hide and then he would have to find them before they hurt themselves, or they would simply not understand and keep asking when their mother was coming back for them. Though all humans seemed to share the trait of disbelieving in death.

It was late afternoon now and if his quarry had not immerged from the room in the next half hour, Jajuka decided that he would go and fetch a dinner tray for him. Mourning tantrums tended to improve greatly after a full meal.

Nearing the end of the hour, a pungent smell shook Jajuka from idle musing. The acrid sent brought his fur to stand on end just a moment before instinct pushed him towards the door and brought it open to revile the boy slumped awkwardly in the bed, the sheets around him stained darkly and his eyes closed.

He dragged the boy into his arms and took off out of the room at a run. He could still smell the beat of his heart and the faint breath on his lips as he charged through the corridors, pushing a few soldiers out of his way as he ran.

'LORD PARUCHI!' he shouted, slamming through the door into the sorcerers' labs.

A few startled sorcerers turned their heads and one came forward. 'Shit!' he exclaimed, running up to Jajuka, 'What the hell kind of nursemaid are you? You were supposed to be watching him!' He and another sorcerer grabbed the boy out of Jajuka's arms and rushed him over to an operation table, carefully pealing his jacket off of him.

'I was just outside the door,' Jajuka said lamely, feeling hollow and shamed, 'I didn't think he'd try to kill himself!'

'Stupid, _fucking_ junin!' Paruchi muttered before shouting an order to one of the younger sorcerers.


	22. In which Dilandau choaks

There was a tube in Dilandau's arm. He thought vaguely that it was gross. He was, however extremely tired, though he had just woken, and felt very heavy, so he didn't think too much about it. There were buzzing and beeping sounds around him that he found irritating and distracting.

He tilted his head the other way and found a big junin sitting on that side of the bed, watching him. Dilandau snarled at him and turned his head back, trying to roll his body so that his back would be to the foul creature but he was too weak.

'Are you hungry, Lord Dilandau?' the junin asked quietly.

'_No_,' Dilandau snapped, despite feeling sick from hunger.

'You haven't eaten in three days,' the junin continued quietly, as though not having heard. 'I will have something brought.'

'I won't eat it,' Dilandau growled. They couldn't make him eat. He'd starve to death.

The junin sighed and a moment later a voice crackled through over a radio. 'What?' it demanded sharply.

'He's awake,' the junin answered. 'He says he won't eat.'

'He'll eat,' the voice answered simply.

'You can't make me!' Dilandau half shouted, but it made him feel dizzy so he stopped there and curled in on himself.

His actions made the tube in his arm pinch and sting and he hissed at it. He heard the door slide open and the wheels of a cart accompanied by footsteps entering the room. 'Dilandau,' a sharp voice addressed him and made him shudder. It was vaguely familiar but he couldn't place it. He didn't know why it brought such terror and panic to the forefront of his mind.

The voice spoke now to the other people in the room. 'Sit him up.'

Dilandau shook as the palate he was on whirred and the upper half of it bent forward, tilting him up. He slid in the bed as it moved, but refused to uncurl himself. After the whirring and movement stopped, hands grabbed at his shoulders and he cried out, struggling weakly. They pushed him back into an open sitting position on the folded bed.

He was now facing the man who had spoken. He was bald with round glasses and a cold face. He was absolutely terrifying. 'Dilandau, it's time for you to eat,' the sorcerer said, pushing a cart next to Dilandau's bed that swung around and was like a tray in front of him.

'I'm not hungry,' the sound came as a hoarse whisper from Dilandau's lips.

'If you can not feed yourself, then you will be assisted,' the sorcerer said, his eyes narrowing behind thick, glass lenses.

'I'm not hungry,' Dilandau said again, his voice sounding stronger as a hint of anger came into it.

The sorcerer nodded sharply. 'Have it your way then,' he said in a quiet, dangerous voice.

The men on either side of Dilandau grabbed his shoulders and arms and pushed him back against the bed again. He struggled and the tube in his arm hurt more. Then it fell away, trailing blood. His arm was bandaged quickly but they left the tube out now as his head was pushed back and his mouth forced open.

The long neck of a large version of the cylinders that hold the drugs for needles was pushed down his throat as he tried to scream. He couldn't breath and he couldn't cry. He struggled and thrashed against the men restraining him, more violently than he would have thought he could have when they came in.

The plunger went down, pushing what must have been something similar to food down into his stomach. He could only make a slight gurgling sound around the device when he tried to scream. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Then it was removed and he gasped and screamed and cried, going quite limp in the restraining hands around him. He couldn't form words, insults or threats, he could only cry.

Then the cylinder was refilled and his head pulled back again.


	23. In which Hitomi cries

'... He's hurting...' Hitomi mumbled softly, looking up at the sky, tears forming in her eyes.

Folken glanced down at her. She was unfocused and distant. He felt a chill. 'Who?'

'Dilandau...' Hitomi blinked, tears trailing down her cheeks. 'He's hurting without you... He still loves you... He's trying to call to you...'

A sound like a sob managed to get past Folken's lips and he put his hand over his mouth, fighting the burning feeling in his eyes. He turned abruptly, trying to escape back indoors. He heard Hitomi start chasing after him, the gravel crackling under her feet and the swooshing sound that the fabric of her shorts made.

'I'm sorry!' she said in a quiet, almost desperate sounding voice.

'Don't...' Folken paused, bracing his hand against a pillar as he paused for a moment just outside the main building. 'I... You didn't do anything... I just... hate myself...'

'Don't do that, Folken,' Hitomi said in a pleading whisper as she caught his arm. 'You can't hate yourself. Please don't do that.'

'I've given myself no reason not to,' Folken answered her quietly, pulling away from her and walking through the doorway.

'There... there must be something... we'll... don't give up, Folken...' she finished lamely, standing in the long shadow of the building and looking down at her feet, tears slowly dripping from her face.


	24. In which Dilandau runs

Dilandau folded his tongue over the pills as he brought the cup of water to his lips. He took a sip, tossed back his head, and coughed for good measure. Then he glared at the junin and the sorcerer-in-training that had brought the pills and climbed into his bed, pulling the blankets over his head and quietly spitting the pills out before growling 'I hate you all.'

He closed his eyes and listened to the door shutting as the sorcerer left and the junin settling onto the bed across the room. Dilandau carefully put his hand on the damp pills and rolled them a bit on the sheet to dry them. Then he rolled onto his belly, holding them in one fist and hugging his pillow, and fell asleep.

He woke up shaking and panting into his pillow, trying not to cry out. Mustn't wake the dog. He raised his head slowly, peeling away the blankets to look at his shadow. The junin looked asleep. He breathed slowly and deeply and didn't stir. Dilandau pushed himself into a sitting position and watched him carefully for a while. Still nothing.

He nodded to himself and pushed the covers off of him, finding his fist still clamped tightly around two pills. He crept quietly off the bed and pushed up the corner of the mattress, stowing them there with a collection of other pills he'd been tonguing.

Dilandau looked at the junin again. He still hadn't moved.

Carefully untangling the sheet from his bed he searched the ceiling. It had exposed pipes running across it here and there like all the rooms on the air ships. He found, in the soft light of a lamp in the corner of the room, a fat pipe that ran over his bed and through the opposite wall.

A few twists and knots gave Dilandau a noose. Something every little boy had learned to tie at some point in their life. He licked his lips and climbed back on top of his bed, standing carefully so that it didn't creak. He climbed out to the end and leaned out as far as he could, past a bit of metal that kept it against the ceiling to an uninterrupted stretch of pipe beyond.

Here he pulled the loose end of the sheet over the pipe, tied a bolin and tugged on it to be sure it was sound. He glanced again at the junin before wrapping his hands around the pipe and edging out, away from his bed. He pushed the knot down to the next barrier, trying not to pant in the effort of brachiating out along the pipe, before taking one hand off a moment to slip the noose over his head.

He stretched his arms out, lowering himself slowly to the end of their reach before letting go and dropping the short distance to the end of his rope. It hurt and he found his body struggling although he tried to tell himself that it was okay and he wanted to die. His flailing limbs wouldn't listen but that was why he'd walked out across the pipe so far anyway.

His arms and legs fell limp and he swung slowly like a pendulum as the strength drained from his body and then the light from his eyes. Shortly after he was unable to keep his eyes open, he heard loud swearing.

He inwardly cursed.


	25. In which Dilandau doesn't sleep

Dilandau folded his tongue over the pills as he brought the cup of water to his lips. He took a sip, tossed back his head, and coughed for good measure. Then he glared at the junin and the sorcerer-in-training that had brought the pills and climbed into his bed, pulling the blankets over his head and quietly spitting the pills out before growling 'I hate you all.'

He closed his eyes and listened to the door shutting as the sorcerer left and the junin settling onto the bed across the room. Dilandau carefully put his hand on the damp pills and rolled them a bit on the sheet to dry them. Then he rolled onto his belly, holding them in one fist and hugging his pillow, and fell asleep.

He woke up shaking and panting into his pillow, trying not to cry out. Mustn't wake the dog. He raised his head slowly, peeling away the blankets to look at his shadow. The junin looked asleep. He breathed slowly and deeply and didn't stir. Dilandau pushed himself into a sitting position and watched him carefully for a while. Still nothing.

He nodded to himself and pushed the covers off of him, finding his fist still clamped tightly around two pills. He crept quietly off the bed and pushed up the corner of the mattress, stowing them there with a collection of other pills he'd been tonguing.

Dilandau looked at the junin again. He still hadn't moved.

Carefully untangling the sheet from his bed he searched the ceiling. It had exposed pipes running across it here and there like all the rooms on the air ships. He found, in the soft light of a lamp in the corner of the room, a fat pipe that ran over his bed and through the opposite wall.

A few twists and knots gave Dilandau a noose. Something every little boy had learned to tie at some point in their life. He licked his lips and climbed back on top of his bed, standing carefully so that it didn't creak. He climbed out to the end and leaned out as far as he could, past a bit of metal that kept it against the ceiling to an uninterrupted stretch of pipe beyond.

Here he pulled the loose end of the sheet over the pipe, tied a bolin and tugged on it to be sure it was sound. He glanced again at the junin before wrapping his hands around the pipe and edging out, away from his bed. He pushed the knot down to the next barrier, trying not to pant in the effort of brachiating out along the pipe, before taking one hand off a moment to slip the noose over his head.

He stretched his arms out, lowering himself slowly to the end of their reach before letting go and dropping the short distance to the end of his rope. It hurt and he found his body struggling although he tried to tell himself that it was okay and he wanted to die. His flailing limbs wouldn't listen but that was why he'd walked out across the pipe so far anyway.

His arms and legs fell limp and he swung slowly like a pendulum as the strength drained from his body and then the light from his eyes. Shortly after he was unable to keep his eyes open, he heard loud swearing.

He inwardly cursed.


	26. In which Dilandau does sleep

It was a week before Dilandau tried tonguing his sleeping pills again. They'd taken away his sheets and now he had a single, very thick quilt that could never fit around any of the pipes on the ceiling. Fortunately they hadn't found his hiding place for the pills. He forced himself to go to sleep without the aid of chemicals and managed to doze for a time.

When he woke up, the junin was again asleep. He climbed down carefully and pried up his mattress again. This time rather than putting the new pills for the night under with the rest, he gathered up the ones already underneath and piled them on top of the mattress.

He crawled back up and sat cross-legged, looking down at his collection before taking them up in his hand and pouring them all into his mouth. He swallowed hard, not being fortunate enough to have water on hand, and laid back down to wait.


	27. In which Dilandau gets yelled at

'You know,' a voice shrill with annoyance said coldly, 'junin can sense any change in health. It's one of their more admirable talents. I do wish you would stop trying to test this theory.'

'... fhhkk yu…' Dilandau mumbled weakly. He had a tube in his arm again.

The sorcerer glared down at him. Dilandau tipped his head sideways slightly, trying to pinpoint the familiarity again. Guymelef training. He was one of the sorcerers working on the interface for the guymelefs. '... I r'membrh yu...' he mumbled quietly and watched the sorcerer raise the area of his face where an eyebrow should have been.

'I've been working with you since you were a child, Dilandau. I'm hurt that you'd forgotten,' the sorcerer sneered and then turned, pacing at the foot of Dilandau's bed. 'You have made it quite clear that you can not handle the responsibility of even swallowing for yourself so from now on it looks like we will have to be more firm in delivering your medications. Perhaps you would like to go back to being _fed_ as well.' He glared down at Dilandau, fury not quite hidden behind his features.

'Nnh,' Dilandau whined, shaking his head.

'Surely you must realize that what we are doing is for _your_ own good,' the sorcerer snapped. 'Your selfish attempts to betray your country and your emperor are wholly inexcusable. You are an investment, Dilandau. You were raised at the states expense and received far more privilege than any other child in Zaibach,' the sorcerer looked like he wanted to shout, but he kept his voice level. 'You were given this privilege with the understanding that you would accept the responsibility that came with it. You are worth more than fifty lesser soldiers and you have no right to deprive the emperor of your services.'

'shuhd've died...' Dilandau closed his eyes. 'jst... tryin' to set it righ'... uhs supposd to die...'

The sorcerer slapped him across the face. 'That is not for you to decide,' he snapped. 'You are just a soldier,' he sneered, 'you do not know the principles of fate so do _not_ presume to tell _me_ what _should _have happened. Stupid fool.'

Dilandau lay with his head turned to the side where the sorcerer's slap had left it and gazed forward, his eyes half-lidded and unfocussed. 'Make the hurt'ng stp... 'll play... mkk it stp...'

He let his eyes slide shut again and sighed softly. He could hear the sorcerer moving around behind him with the clink of glass and metal. He whimpered as a needle slid into his arm, but didn't struggle.


	28. In which Dilandau yells

'Please calm yourself, Lord Dilandau,' Jajuka said softly, holding Dilandau's wrists as the boy struggled and growled at him. Jajuka couldn't identify any prompting for the attack this time. But then, because Dilandau had so far decked three soldiers for not bowing as they passed him in the hall and beaten a lesser sorcerer unconscious for no apparent reason at all, it wasn't that surprising.

'Fucking, stupid junin!' Dilandau growled, trying to kick at him, to which Jajuka responded by simply lifting him off his feet. 'LET ME GO!' Dilandau screamed.

'Please calm yourself, Lord Dilandau,' Jajuka repeated, though he knew the boy was about as capable of that as he was of flying. His veins were running with more drugs than blood now.

Dilandau let out a loud, wordless scream that made Jajuka wince and flatten his ears. While he was closing his eyes in a flinch, Dilandau's boot swung around and connected with his jaw.

He dropped Dilandau in surprise and clamped his hands over his mouth before the boot connected with his stomach, sending him to the ground and then savagely kicking him in the ribs.

He grunted and growled and managed to knock Dilandau's legs out from under him and pin him to the floor. '_Control yourself!_' he roared.

'LETMEGOLETMEGOLET ME GO!' Dilandau screamed, thrashing violently.

People were in the hall now, attracted by the noise. They stared at the irate young pilot and exchanged murmurs.

Dilandau stilled.

Jajuka sat back, looking at him. His eyes had gone unfocussed and his lips were slowly moving in silent speech, as though talking to himself. He looked to be in another world. Jajuka sighed and let go of him, getting to his feet and then bending down to offer Dilandau a hand to his own.

'My Lord?' Jajuka said calmly and Dilandau's eyes focused on him again before he sat up and slapped Jajuka's hand away.

'Don't touch me!' he snapped, getting to his feet on his own. He stood there a moment, going unfocussed again, then whirled and charged towards the small crowd down the hall, screaming, 'DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT ME, YOU LAZY, STUPID BASTARDS!' He pounced on one of those slower to move and started beating him savagely. The man he'd landed on was a head taller than him, at least three years older and far more powerfully built, but couldn't manage to even block as Dilandau set about him with his fists, screaming insults and threats.

'NO! NO! NO!' Dilandau protested as Jajuka dragged him off the bruised and humiliated soldier, flailing and shrieking. 'I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! I HATE YOU!'

Jajuka wrapped his hands around Dilandau's wrists again and the crossed his arms over the boy's chest, holding him so that his feet didn't quite touch the floor. The soldier he'd attacked scrambled to his feet and did his best to look dignified as he fled. Dilandau was attempting to bite Jajuka's arms but they were just out of reach.

'Please calm yourself, Lord Dilandau,' Jajuka said again, sighing and locking his arms so that he could hold Dilandau like that until he did manage to calm down. He seemed to be slowly loosing his energy to keep fighting as he stopped kicking Jajuka's shins and resorted mainly to muttering curses at Jajuka.

After standing like this for some time, he again heard footsteps and looked up, hoping Dilandau wouldn't get inspired by a second wind to attack the new passerby. Worse yet, though, as Paruchi rounded the corner, gazing with unveiled amusement at Dilandau.

'He won't stop attacking people,' Jajuka said through his teeth.

'Good,' Paruchi grinned, sauntering up and looking Dilandau in the eye. Dilandau glared back at him and growled. 'Dilandau--'

'_Scum!_'

'Who do you hate?'

'YOU!' Dilandau struggled again, and then cringed and pressed back into Jajuka slightly when Paruchi reached up and stroked the boy's cheek.

'Who do you hate most, Dilandau?' Paruchi asked more quietly. 'Who hurt you? Who makes you hurt?'

Dilandau froze for a moment, staring past Paruchi, then softly hissed, '_Van_.'

'Very good, Dilandau,' Paruchi grinned. 'I would let you kill him, Dilandau. If you be very good, I will let you kill him.'

'Yes,' Dilandau whispered.

'Listen to Jajuka and eat all your food. Do what the doctors tell you. If you do this, I will let you kill him,' Paruchi whispered, leaning closer to Dilandau's face.

Jajuka could feel the boy pressing away from the sorcerer and his body shaking more violently, but he maintained his visible calm and nodded silently.

'Put him down, Jajuka,' Paruchi said, not looking away from Dilandau's eyes.

Jajuka obediently set the boy on his feet and slowly let go of his wrists. He maintained his cool and stared back at Paruchi. He smelled of fear though still didn't show it visibly.

'I even have a present for you, Dilandau,' Paruchi grinned widely, his yellowed teeth peeking from behind his thin lips.

'Sir?' Dilandau whispered, still calm though his fear increased again. The drugs seemed to bring his emotions to extremes, the rage was gone and now replaced with abject terror. This cocktail would perhaps not be so useful in battle as Paruchi imagined.

'A brand new guymelef, made just for you, Dilandau,' Paruchi told him quietly and the fear left Dilandau, traded for excitement. 'I was so impressed when you melted that Alseides unit, Dilandau. To think a boy could be too powerful for a guymelef. But I knew since you were very small that you would be special.' Paruchi combed his hand through Dilandau's hair and the smell of fear abruptly returned as Dilandau visibly flinched. Paruchi took no notice. 'The Oreades is special too. And if you break this present, then I'll make you an even better one.' Paruchi stroked Dilandau's hair again and smiled in a way that sent chills down Jajuka's spine. 'There's a good boy.'


	29. In which Hitomi screams

Hitomi screamed, clamping her hands over her ears as though that would block out the sounds and sights inside her mind. 'No...' she whimpered softly. 'Stop it, Van... Please stop...' She sobbed, letting her knees buckle as she fell to the floor and crouched there, shaking.

She could see the wooly carpet and the bed and the walls and the vanity stand around her. She could see all of this but at the same time she could see fire and blood and steel and death. She could hear the screams of the injured and dying ringing in her ears.

But it was so much worse than that.

She could _feel_ them dying. She could _feel_ hot metal slicing through them. She could _feel_ the terror as they realized they couldn't block this coming blow. She could _feel_ the rage and the excitement and the bloodlust. She could _feel_ the trill of adrenaline and absolute _joy_ of killing another being.

She screamed and crumpled in on herself. And then there was Van. More than anybody else on that battlefield she could feel him. She could see more clearly through his eyes than her own. She could feel the pump of his heart and the elation. The elation. He was enjoying it. He was enjoying fighting. Enjoying _killing_.

At first his mind had been filled with thoughts of protecting. Then there was revenge. Now there was only fighting. Only killing. Hitomi screamed. Her scream was matched.

She gasped and looked up, searching for the other person who had cried out. She was looking at Escaflowne. At Van. At him advancing on her to kill her. She was fighting him and he was pushing her back. 'VAN, NO!' she screamed hysterically. 'STOP IT! PLEASE STOP IT!'

She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and screamed out, entreating anyone that would hear her. 'MAKE IT STOP!'

Her scream became wordless and echoed from another throat. Terror filled her, and the need to reach safety. Security. Comfort.

888

To be continued in:

Masks

Part Three: Waking Dream


End file.
